Marvel's master of cosmic magic

Chapter 593

"You already have more abilities than most people could imagine," Charles Xavier said, his tone warm with approval. "So why join the school? You can create money at will. You don’t need a job."

Rowan Mercer shrugged lightly. "Money isn’t the problem. I’m missing people like me. I’m tired of being treated like a mistake."

Charles paused, then sighed softly before smiling.

"No one here will ever call you that," he said. "This place isn’t a shelter for oddities. It’s a family. And if you stay, you’ll be part of it."

The word had followed almost every mutant at some point in their life. Different powers, same label. Too strange. Too dangerous. Too other. Many of the students had come here after being driven away by that fear.

"That word," Erik Lehnsherr said as he approached, having just finished settling his wife and daughter, "is just envy wearing a mask. Never be ashamed of what you are."

Charles nodded. "On that, old friend, we’ve always agreed."

"Except on humans," Erik replied dryly. "But even then, the goal is the same. A better future for our kind."

He glanced at Rowan. "I hear you can create anything. How about a chess set?"

"Of course."

With a casual wave, a polished board and neatly carved pieces appeared between Erik and Charles.

"Convenient," Erik said, impressed, then added sharply, "And no reading my mind."

"I don’t need to," Charles replied. "You move first."

Erik slid a piece forward with a faint smile. "Then I’ll be generous. Fairness matters."

Rowan watched for a moment, then quietly turned away.

"Two terrible players," he muttered.

From their confidence, he’d expected masters. Instead, it was obvious within minutes that neither had much talent for the game. Intelligence didn’t guarantee skill, and bad players, he’d noticed, loved playing against each other.

"You know why I never join them?" Raven said with a laugh as Rowan sat nearby. "I don’t want to crush their spirits. I just watch."

She hadn’t seen them this relaxed together in years. Not since the early days, when everything still felt possible.

Rowan smiled faintly.

He sat beside Pietro Maximoff, who kept glancing toward Erik, uncertainty written all over his face.

"So," Rowan said casually, "when are you going to tell him?"

Pietro hesitated, then sighed. "I’m waiting for the right moment."

Rowan shook his head. "There’s no such thing. Say it early. Face it early."

Pietro looked again at Erik, then nodded. "When we get back to the school."

The conversation drifted. Rowan asked about Wanda.

"She’s an elementary school teacher," Pietro said quickly, brightening. "She wanted to be an actress once. Loved old sitcoms. But teaching’s quieter. Safer. Kids don’t question things the way adults do."

By the time he finished, the jet was already descending.

That night, long after the school had gone quiet, Rowan appeared silently inside Jean Grey’s room.

She lay restless, brow furrowed, trapped in a dream she couldn’t escape. With every surge of emotion, something vast stirred within her. A presence. Fire shaped like wings, pressing against the edge of reality.

She forced it back down.

Rowan studied the energy carefully.

"So this is it," he murmured. "The Phoenix."

He rested his hand gently against her forehead and activated his devouring art, drawing in a thread of that power.

Almost immediately, resistance surged back.

Rowan frowned.

It wasn’t impossible. Just... slow. Painfully slow.

At this rate, draining it completely would take decades.

That shouldn’t have been the case. This wasn’t the full cosmic force. Just a fragment, bound to a human host far weaker than he was.

Then the answer became clear.

Jean herself was resisting.

Not consciously. Instinctively.

As long as she clung to the power, the power would cling to her.

Rowan withdrew his hand.

"There are two solutions," he said quietly. "Grow stronger... or earn her trust."

Ideally, both.

He vanished before dawn.

Winning Jean over wouldn’t be difficult. She feared the Phoenix more than anyone. And strengthening his devouring art? That, too, had a path.

Somewhere out there lived a creature whose very nature was consumption.

And Rowan already knew what he needed to do next.